Ash in the Wind
by Isis FG
Summary: BA fic - post-Chosen - Saying goodbye is never easy - COMPLETE


** Title: **Ash in the Wind  
**Author:** Isis (aka FlyerGirl)  
**Started:** June 24, 2004  
**Completed:** June 25, 2004   
  
**Feedback:** vagabondangelcomcast.net  
  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not associated with WB, Joss, et al, and I'm making no profit off any of this.  
  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** B/A  
**Summary:** post-Chosen – Saying goodbye is never easy.  
**Spoilers:** a few for 'Chosen'  
  
**Distribution:** my site (Vagabond Soul), and if you already have any of my fics, you may take this one, if not, please ask first.   
  
**Author's Notes:** Be sure to read the warnings below. This is not a happy fic. I've been having trouble writing, and this idea was swimming around my head so I just went with it. It didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, but I think it at least has spurred muse back into writing mode.  
  
**Thank you:** to Wendy for doing such a quick beta for me!  
  
**Warnings:** angst, tissue-worthy, character death  
  
----  
  
Back and forth he paced.  
  
It was like watching an object of perpetual motion, thought Wesley as he spied Angel tracking across the floor of the Hyperion lobby.  
  
Five steps forward; a glance to the front door, then seven to the left; a glance to the phone, and then back again.  
  
The constant movement was more than a little unnerving, and a bit aggravating. The former Watcher, however, had no intentions of asking the restless vampire to cease his pacing. He, himself, was anxious to hear any news at all from Sunnydale.  
  
Another half hour passed, but not a single being present inside the Hyperion spoke a word. They had, though, noticed the change in Angel's repetitious actions. He now paced solely near the door, far enough to avoid the sunlight, but close enough to be within a hair's breadth of the deadly rays. He also no longer eyed the phone, his attention now fully riveted upon the wide double doors leading to the outside world.  
  
Fred, Gunn, and Lorne were perplexed by the change, but Wesley knew better. He'd been around long enough to know what had likely affected his friend.  
  
Only a few minutes later, Angel's constant pacing stopped, literally. He froze mid-step, eyes staring at the door and nowhere else. Fred frowned at the unexpected, and odd, behavior. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the front door opened.  
  
An audible sigh of relief sounded from Angel's lips at the first glimpse of Buffy stepping into the lobby. He wanted to fall to the ground and give thanks that she had survived whatever had happened during the battle with the First. Ever since walking away from the graveyard that night his stomach had been in knots, but seeing her alive unraveled the tension inside him.  
  
He noticed only vaguely her overly pale complexion, and the tiny beads of sweat dotting her face. His only thoughts were directed toward the fact that she was standing only inches from him. Overcome with relief, he swept her up into his arms, needing the comfort of her touch to reassure him of her presence.  
  
"You made it," his soft voice whispered into her ear.  
  
She said nothing in response, but he felt her cling tighter to him. Concerned, Angel pulled back and looked down at her. This time, he became fully aware of Buffy's pale, clammy skin. But that wasn't what struck him the most. It was the strong, pungent scent of blood that made him stagger backwards.  
  
"You're hurt," he said, worry dripping in his voice.  
  
"I'm fine," she denied tightly, wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
Angel scowled, reading straight through her lie, and pushed her arms back down to her sides. He looked her over carefully, but saw nothing to indicate that she was injured. His relief lasted only a moment as he reached out with his senses and felt her unsteady pulse. With a deft movement of his hands, Angel opened the sides of her jacket, gasping the second his eyes fell on the large red stain that dominated one side of her body.  
  
"Oh my Gods, Buffy!" he yelled louder than he meant to.  
  
"Dear Lord! Why didn't you say anything?!" Giles exclaimed from where he'd been standing uncomfortably in the doorway.  
  
"It...it's fine," Buffy answered softly, wincing as she crossed her arms to try and hide the wound.  
  
"It's not fine, Buffy," Angel growled in anger.  
  
Without thinking twice, he once again pulled her arms away and swiftly lifted up the hem of her shirt so he could check out the injury. At the sight of the gruesome, gaping hole on her right side, everyone within viewing distance gasped. It wasn't nothing, as all were immediately aware.  
  
Angel never took his eyes off the still bleeding wound as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his car keys. He glanced behind himself long enough to throw the keys at Wesley, but quickly refocused on the woman in front of him. Carefully, he touched the bloodied skin, yanking his hand back when she whimpered.  
  
"Angel, really. It's fine...I just...need to..." Buffy never finished the sentence as her body began to sway unsteadily.  
  
In the blink of an eye, Angel had lifted her into his arms before she could fall. He moved as close to the door as possible without risking exposure to sunlight.  
  
"Wes, go get my car! Now!" Angel ordered.  
  
The ex-Watcher wasted no time in questioning Angel, but instead sprinted out the door. Giles and Dawn, the only two to come with Buffy to see Angel, rushed to her side. Both were worried and confused as they had not even been aware she'd been hurt. The whole ride from Sunnydale to LA she'd not said one word about being impaled by anything that would cause the dangerous hole in her side.  
  
"Why didn't you take her to a hospital?" he snarled without looking at either Giles or Dawn.  
  
"We didn't know, Angel," Giles defended their actions, or lack thereof.  
  
"She never told us," added Dawn in a whisper.  
  
Buffy squirmed in Angel's arms as if she were trying to get away from him. "No hospitals," she pleaded when she couldn't get him to let go.  
  
"Buffy...you have to get it looked at," Angel tried to say calmly, though panic was quickly setting in. He could feel her pulse weakening.  
  
"No," she repeated, tears forming in her eyes.  
  
Angel stared down at her face, looking deeply into her eyes. "Please, baby. Go for me," he begged.  
  
"But I don't want to," she pouted, though the effect was muted due the pain-laden expression that washed over her face.  
  
"Buffy...please," he pressed again.  
  
"Fine," she conceded, trying to hide a grimace that was part pain related and part her fear of hospital.  
  
"The car's waiting," interrupted Giles.  
  
Angel looked from Buffy, to the door which was drenched in bright sunlight, and then back to Buffy. "You'll have to take her," he said, resignation clear in his voice.  
  
Carefully, he transferred Buffy's weakening body to Giles, hating the fact that he had to relinquish her, but knowing he had to. He watched helplessly as Giles moved quickly to the door. The older man turned before exited and faced Angel.  
  
"I'll take good care of her," he told the vampire.  
  
"I know," Angel whispered, shuddering as a feeling of dread trickled down his spine. "I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
He stared at Buffy for another second, telling her with his eyes that he loved her and that he would be back by her side as soon as possible. She stared back, eyes drooping as her head rested on Giles' shoulder. Angel wouldn't have been able to explain it if asked, but at that moment his fear multiplied infinitesimally.   
  
----  
  
His heavy steps echoed as Angel strode down the stark white halls of the hospital. It had taken him much too long to arrive at the medical institution by way of the sun-protected sewers. Nearly an hour and a half had passed since he last glimpsed Buffy's face as Giles carried her out the door, and he was out of his mind with worry.  
  
Thankfully, he found Giles, Dawn, along with Willow, Xander, and some others he didn't know, seated in a waiting area near the emergency room. At least he wouldn't have to tear the whole damn hospital apart looking for them. That would have only taken precious time he didn't have to waste.  
  
"Giles, how is she?" he asked in a rush.  
  
"We don't know," Giles answered tiredly, standing and walking toward the vampire so that they were situated away from the remainder of the group. "They took her immediately up to surgery."  
  
"You haven't heard anything?" Angel questioned, though he knew if he had Giles would have told him.  
  
"No," the former watcher shook his head as he replied. "I'm worried, Angel. She never even said she was hurt and this was not some small scrape."  
  
"She'll be fine," Angel tried to reassure him, but his tone lacked the confidence he wanted it to convey.  
  
Another two hours passed as they waited for news on Buffy. Each time the door to the waiting room opened, all eyes snapped to whoever entered, only to be disappointed to see some random person. No one spoke, not knowing what they could possibly say to each other. The only person who dared to approach Angel was Dawn, who sat next to the eerily still vampire, holding his hand.  
  
Finally, after another half hour passed, the door once again opened. A tall, older man with graying hair entered, his face drawn and sweaty. Angel tried to read the man's expression, but was unable to tell anything. The doctor looked down to a chart in his hand before speaking.  
  
"Are you Miss Summers' family?" he asked politely.  
  
"Yes," Giles answered, lying, though in his heart they were all family. "How is she?"  
  
The man took a deep breath, slowly rotating his eyes to gaze at all those present because of their concern for the young girl he'd just operated on. This was the part of his job that he did not enjoy.  
  
"The...injury...she sustained is quite serious. The puncture went straight through her body, and in the process severed her liver. She has substantial internal bleeding. We tried as best we could to repair the damage, but I'm afraid the injury is too severe," he explained as sympathetically as he could. No matter how many times he had to do this, he'd never get used to it.  
  
"What are you saying?" Dawn whispered, grasping frantically at Angel's arm.  
  
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but there's nothing else we can do. She's resting as comfortably as possible in the ICU at the moment, but...I don't expect her to make it through the night," he completed his diagnosis.  
  
"NO!" Dawn screamed, falling to the ground with a sob.  
  
Angel's body slumped, landing against the wall heavily as tears began to trail steadily down his cheeks. Vaguely, he could see Giles kneeling before Dawn, and Willow and Xander clutching at each other, but he could hear nothing but the doctor's words.  
  
_"I don't expect her to make it through the night."_  
  
----  
  
Silently, Angel sat by her bedside, holding Buffy's hand comfortingly as each and every one of her friends and family entered and exited her room. No one asked to him to leave; for which he was eternally grateful. He knew they spoke to her. What they said, he couldn't remember. The words barely registered. He could only stare at her pale, weak body, tracing his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand.  
  
Xander was the last to leave, and Angel knew he did so reluctantly. Then he was alone with her. Well, not entirely. The saddened faces of Giles, Dawn, Willow and Xander were gazing steadily through the spotless glass to the right of her bed. He wanted to close the curtains, but knew it was wrong to shut them out. So he simply ignored their presence.  
  
"Don't say it," Buffy said weakly, breaking the silence between them.  
  
"I should have been there," he stated anyway.  
  
"The amulet...it killed Spike...but it saved us all...well, most of us," she relayed, her voice oddly unemotional.  
  
"I still shoul-"  
  
"No," she quieted him. "Because then you'd be dead too."  
  
"But maybe I could have saved you," he whispered, fighting back a sob.  
  
"No," she denied, gathering enough strength to give a small shake of her head. "It's my time, Angel. We all knew it would come some day."  
  
"Don't say that," Angel choked out, grasping her hand tighter.  
  
"I'm tired, Angel," she said in an ever softening voice.  
  
"I...I can leave," he offered, though it was the last thing he wanted to do.  
  
"No...I'm tired of all this," she corrected. "I'm tired of fighting; of losing people I love. I've given everything I have for this world. There's nothing left."  
  
"You can't give up," he demanded quietly.  
  
"I'm not. I'm accepting," she told him. "It's my time, Angel. It probably was long ago."  
  
"No." He shook his head, pulling her hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on her clammy skin. "Don't leave me."  
  
She smiled thinly at him, raising a trembling hand to his cheek. "I'll always be with you, no matter where I am."  
  
"I never stopped loving you," he whispered brokenly, feeling a determined need to say that at that exact moment.  
  
"Me neither. I tried to, but you were always in my heart," she returned so softly he could barely hear her as her hand fell limply away from his face.  
  
Angel leaned over and placed the lightest of kisses on her dry lips. She responded for only a moment before he felt and heard her last shuddering breath escape her lips. His head fell to her chest; his tears soaking through the coarse hospital gown as he heard the steady bleep of the heart monitor flat-lining.  
  
----  
  
A steady breeze rippled through the air surrounding the darkened pier in Santa Monica. The sky was cloudless, marred only by the twinkling stars high up in the heavens, and the bright illumination of the nearly full moon. The only sound to be heard was that of the crashing of waves below his feet.  
  
Angel's unsteady gait took him slowly to the end of the pier. He was aware of little except for where he was, what he was doing, and that there were several people trailing just as slowly behind him. They didn't agree with what he had planned, but he'd fought tooth and nail for it. It was what she would have wanted. He was sure of that.  
  
All too soon he reached the wooden fencing that separated himself from the water below. His steps halted, unsure of what he was to do next. Like before in the hospital, Dawn was the only one to approach. She touched his arm gently, causing him to gaze down into her tired eyes. She didn't speak, but Angel knew the gesture was meant to offer her support for what he was doing.  
  
He gave her an almost imperceptible nod of his head before she took a step backwards, allowing him the peace to continue. But now that it was time, Angel wasn't so sure he was right. He wasn't sure he could do it anymore.  
  
Looking down at his hands, he eyes caught the glint of silver on his finger. Painfully, he recalled the night he'd given her the matching ring, and then what happened afterwards. The unforgettable memory triggered others, nearly sending him to his knees in sorrow.  
  
A meeting in a dark alley.  
The first kiss.  
Patrolling.  
Angelus.  
Hell.  
Her face.  
Her mischievous eyes.  
A silent goodbye across a smoke-filled parking lot.  
Sunlight.  
Ice cream.  
Willow waiting in the Hyperion for him.  
A phone call bearing a miracle.  
A last kiss only days ago.  
  
Angel barely managed to stay on his feet at the overwhelming images flashing through his mind. But if anything, they steeled his resolve. He remembered her words as she lay in the hospital bed.  
  
_"I'm tired of fighting; of losing people I love. I've given everything I have for this world. There's nothing left."  
  
"It's my time, Angel. It probably was a long time ago."_  
  
His tears fell, accepting that this was right.  
  
She could rest in peace now. No one would be able to bring her back.  
  
Achingly slowly, Angel raised the ceramic container he'd been clutching to his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the cool outer shell, wishing it was her warm, soft lips he was touching instead. Eyes closed, he said the silent goodbye he never wanted to have to say.  
  
His shaking hand carefully pulled off the lid of the urn, setting it down on the railing in front of him. He hesitated only a second before tilting the container.  
  
In morbid fascination, Angel watched as the tiny particles of ash, all that remained of his beloved, were picked up by the wind and carried out to places unknown.  
  
Long after the urn was empty, he continued to stare; not wanting to part with the remaining essence of the one girl he'd ever love.  
  
Though he spoke so quietly it was almost drowned out by the wind, his words echoed long into the night.  
  
"You're finally free, baby."  
  
----  
  
THE END! 


End file.
